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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28327095">born in a snowstorm</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/beatrixfranklin/pseuds/beatrixfranklin'>beatrixfranklin</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Call the Midwife</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 17:42:17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>387</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28327095</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/beatrixfranklin/pseuds/beatrixfranklin</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"You are a part of our family, my dear. The outcome is painful regardless,"</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>19</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>born in a snowstorm</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>With a face like the paper that adorns your desk, Valerie sits across from you, a mere shell of the woman you hired.<br/>
The fight is gone. It left with Elsie and you fear what comes next. </p><p>The inevitability of it is almost as certain as the elderly woman's departure that has now lead one of your boldest midwives to this path.</p><p>You offer a smile. One isn't returned, though you understand why. In her hand, a neat envelope addressed in pristine handwriting to you and only you. </p><p>"This is where your family is, Nurse Dyer,"</p><p>"That's the problem,"</p><p>You offer six months, then eight, even twelve. She won't accept it. She wants out. You can't blame her and you refuse to look for a reason to- the trembling of her hand as she places the envelope onto your desk is more than enough evidence of the turmoil within. </p><p>"I'll arrange your flights to allow for a proper goodbye,"</p><p>A firm shake of the head. </p><p>"That'll cause too much pain. I want to simply slip out unnoticed,"</p><p>"You are a part of our family, my dear. The outcome is painful regardless,"</p><p>Her face is unmoving and you make the decision to pick your battles. </p><p>"I will inform them all that you are covering an extended holiday period at the maternity home,"</p><p>She nods, tangling her fingers together in her lap. They are raw, bitten, clearly disturbed in anxiety or something else, whatever that is.</p><p>"By the time they realise that you are gone, you should be boarding for South Africa,"</p><p>Valerie nods once again, slow and gentle, as though sharp movements may shatter her entirely. She certainly appears that way- her already slender frame shrunken and pale, deep rings adorning her eyes, her face sinking where it isn't puffy from restless nights of tears. </p><p>You take the envelope she has left, admiring the well kept handwriting that adorns the front. </p><p>She stands to leave.</p><p>"Nurse Dyer,"</p><p>Slowly, she turns.</p><p>"Please do not think you won't be missed," </p><p>A pause.<br/>
Then the closest thing to a smile any of you have seen from her in weeks.</p><p>"As long as you don't think I won't miss all of you," </p><p>The door closes with a less than dramatic click.</p><p>Valerie Dyer- born in a snowstorm, left in a quiet breeze. </p>
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